Stone Soldiers 4: Shades of War (11 page)

Kenslir ignored the ice sticking out of his body and adjusted his aim and fired. Behind the ice giant, a figure screamed in pain. A bullet had just smashed into his foot- which had been exposed between the ice man's legs.

The wounded man fell to the ground, screaming and cursing. Then he realized he was now exposed and rolled onto his stomach to stand up quickly.

It had been many years since Kenslir had last seen the weapon the fallen man was wearing. A flamethrower, from the Korean War era. Kenslir sighted without hesitation and began firing rounds into the exposed tank on the man's back.

As fuel began spraying from the holes in the thin metal walls of the tank, the man on the ground redoubled his efforts to get up. He had his knees up, under him, about to rise when a tracer round from Kenslir's AK-47 finally sparked against the metal tank.

A brilliant fireball erupted behind the ice giant, toppling him forward.

Kenslir ejected the nearly-empty magazine from his rifle, then pulled a fresh one from the back pocket of his jeans and slammed it home. He then began firing methodically into the head of the fallen ice giant, blasting away chunks of ice.

As Kenslir walked forward, firing, the ice giant slowly rose. But by the time it was back on its feet, most of the icy head was gone- whittled away by the steady volley of bullets. Now much closer to the target, Kenslir could see the shape of the human inside it- a small form surrounded by the animated ice form.

His second magazine spent, Kenslir slammed in another and shifted his fire to one leg. By now the shards of ice in his chest and shoulder had dropped off- leaving no mark where they had been.

The ice giant ignored the burning corpses of the two figures behind it and extended its other hand, again exploding it and sending a shower of shards at Kenslir.

Covering his face with his forearm, Kenslir ignored the shotgun like blast and the dozen slivers of ice that struck him. Then he lowered his arm and resumed firing- this time at the giant's left knee.

Ice splintered and shattered as the 7.62mm bullets broke off great pieces of it. The headless ice giant staggered back, unsure what to do. Then its knee splintered the rest of the way, and the huge construct fell to the ground.

Kenslir slung his rifle over his shoulder, swinging it around to his back and sprinted forward. The ice giant was changing form now, shrinking down to something much smaller- a virtual suit of ice armor for the parahuman inside it.

Kenslir grabbed the weirdly fluid, yet solid ice with both hands and shoved. Where his fingers touched the cold ice, bright green light flared.

The icy form slid back, several feet, right into the burning flames on the front of the house the parahumans had emerged from. Ignited by the exploding flamethrower tank, the house was burning now- great sheets of flame roiling upwards.

The ice form shuddered and split open and a thin form leapt out. Wearing blue coveralls and canvas sneakers, the young man who had been in control of the ice dashed away from the flames melting his icy armor. He looked up at Kenslir just in time to see the AK-47 fire again- a single round that cored out his eye and ruptured his head.

Kenslir looked around the compound of buildings, trying to find more figures in the augmented view of the tactical visor. He had counted considerably more armed and unarmed terrorists when he was brought here. Which meant it was time to gather some more ammunition and go house to house.

He reached down to the melting ice and broke off a large piece, then pressed it to his neck. The ice slowly melted, its water soaking into the wound. When the ice was all gone, Kenslir pulled his hand away and the wound from the Russian weregirl was fully healed.

Unslinging his rifle, he checked the magazine then headed grimly for the closest building.

The witch's necklace had proven most useful to Clint Kerrick. With it he had easily been able to fly to Washington D.C.. In fact, he still had a great deal of power when he arrived. Enough to snap the neck of a surprised member of the park police who tried to stop him as he approached the Washington Monument on foot. Enough to ignore the puny bullets of another park policeman shooting him in the back.

Clint smiled evilly as he approached the monument. What his eyes could not see was a glowing, almost blinding glare in his mind. Pure energy, glowing as hotly as the sun. All from the monument itself.

In his first life, Kerrick had always considered tapping that power. But he wasn't sure if he could do so unnoticed. And he hadn't wanted the humans to figure out the nature of his powers. It was too great a gamble he would be seen, even with the monument containing so much power.

But that was then. Now, in this new life, he had in mind a very specific use for all that power. And it wouldn't matter who saw him tap it. As the park policeman firing his bullets into Clint's back finally paused to reload, the resurrected terrorist reached a trembling, nervous hand out to touch the cool, white marble.

Fire seemed to swell within Clint as power coursed through his fingertips, up his arms and into every atom of his being. Power unlike anything he'd ever drawn in before. The lifeforce of millions, drawn over a century and accumulated and unused for so long.

The park policeman had begun firing again, unable to think of any other recourse or action. He'd told the flying man to put up his hands and had been flatly ignored. Then the intruder had pushed aside a barrier and approached the monument.

Clint turned toward the officer, his hand still on the monument. He smiled as he unleashed white hot streams of pyrokinetic force at the policeman. The officer flashed a bright white as his temperature soared to several thousand degrees in under a second. His body was turned to ash and vaporized in one quick blast, scattering only light in the terrific heat. Not even smoke remained to mark where the man had been. Even the sidewalk on which he had stood was singed and melted from the incredible heat.

Clint laughed at the power surging within him. It was unimaginable. But even he had his limits. Finally, reluctantly, he released his hold on the marble. He could always come back later. But first, he had a new army to raise.

***

The military was definitely treating him better than his hometown police had. Jason had a new set of clothes and was staying in a plush hotel room in what he had been told was the BOQ- the Bachelor Officers' Quarters. And he was eating some of the best food he'd had in his whole life. He could almost close his eyes and believe he was on vacation.

Over the roar of the TV- turned to a pay-per-view event his mother would have been deeply disturbed to find him watching- Jason heard a knock at his door. He opened his eyes and gulped down the mouthful of delicious steak he'd been chewing.

"Just a minute," Jason said, rising from the small table in the room and reaching for the remote. He lowered the volume and went to the door, wondering who it was.

The smile he had from a full belly and his comfortable accommodations evaporated when Jason opened the door and saw Colonel Kenslir standing there- flanked by Josie Winters and the vampire, Laura Olson.

Kenslir was now wearing an ACU camouflage uniform, while Josie and Laura had changed into more comfortable slacks, blouses and government-issue nylon windbreakers.

"Good morning, Mr. Trumball," Kenslir said. "May we come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Jason stammered, stepping back and gesturing. Josie was the first through the door, followed by Laura Olson, then the Colonel.

Jason closed the door behind them, then noticed Josie was staring at the TV and the nude women on the screen. Jason turned a bright red and frantically worked the remote, turning off the TV.

"I had no idea you were such a little perv," Laura said, moving to the side of the room.

"Uh," Jason gulped. He rushed around Josie and began picking up his morning meal- steak and eggs. When he had scooped it all up, he stacked it on a dresser, then pulled a chair out for himself and motioned for Josie to take the other one.

Colonel Kenslir pulled another chair from the desk located next to the bed and sat it near the table, waiting for Josie to sit first.

"What can I do for you?" Jason asked, still embarrassed.

"I'd like to talk about the night your parents were murdered," Kenslir said. He pulled a small digital recorder from his shirt pocket and turned it on.

"I've talked enough about it," Jason said a little angrily.

"I'm interested in the bearded man's death," Kenslir said. "And what you told Agent Winters."

Jason looked at Josie, trying to read her. Were they going to think he was crazy?

"It was a shadow."

"But shaped like a man?"

"Yeah," Jason said. He couldn't read Kenslir- the big man's face was a like a mask of emotionless stone.

"And it could fly? You're sure of that?"

"Yeah..."

"Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

Jason looked at Josie, then Laura Olson and laughed. "You're kidding, right? No- I haven't seen anything like this before. Before my parents were killed, I thought the world made sense."

"Tell me about when he touched you," Kenslir said.

Jason bristled. "I'm done talking about this. I want to know what you're gonna do with me."

Kenslir regarded him quietly for several long seconds. "We're going to get you some justice."

Jason was perplexed and looked to Josie.

"He means we're trying to stop the man who killed your parents," she said.

"Man? That was no man," Jason said. "He was some kind of... monster." He glanced at Laura as he said the last.

The vampire glared back, but held her tongue.

"He was no monster," Kenslir said. "He was a spirit."

"A spirit?" Jason had seen a lot, but ghosts were something he wasn't ready to buy into yet. "Like on TV?"

"I don't watch TV," Kenslir said. "He was a spirit- hopping from one body to the next. We call that non-corporeal astral projection."

"Non-corporeal- what?"

"He was a man, but he has the ability to move from one body to the next. Like changing his clothes," Kenslir explained.

"That's crazy," Jason said.

"Crazier than a vampire?" Laura chimed in from the side of the room. "Or a boy who can drain the energy from others by touching them?"

"Just who are you people?" Jason asked.

"We're the good guys," Josie answered. She started to reach for Jason's hand, but stopped herself.

"Good guys, hunh? Well tell me why he looked like my dad, then."

"Because your father was his clone."

Jason started to laugh, but the Colonel's face was as grim as before. He clearly wasn't joking. "There's no such thing."

"They've cloned sheep," Laura said. "And I hear the Japanese are working on cloning a wooly mammoth."

Jason looked back and forth between his three visitors, waiting for the punch line. "My dad was almost forty. They couldn't clone people back then."

"Really?" Kenslir asked.

"Jason, it
's true, " Josie said. "I know it's a lot to believe, but it is true."

"A lot to believe? It's crazy!" Jason said, his voice rising. "Next you're going to tell me little green men gave us the cloning technology!"

"Not quite," Kenslir said.

"Jason," Josie said quietly. "Your father was a clone.... just like mine."

Jason looked over at Josie, surprised. "What?"

"My clone- in a manner of speaking," Kenslir said. "It's older technology than you think."

Jason had to stand up. He noticed Laura shift her weight, as though she were about to do something. "So he's one of you!"

"No. But we need your help stopping him," Kenslir said. "You have the same abilities he does, it would appear."

Josie held out her hand. "Please."

Jason looked back and forth again at the trio.

"I need to study your abilities," Kenslir said. "Find out exactly how they work."

"You want me to be a guinea pig?"

Kenslir was about to speak, but his cell phone rang. He answered it immediately. "Kenslir."

The Colonel listened intently for a few minutes. "Prepare to move out immediately," he finally said, then ended the call.

Kenslir stood, his face impossibly more grim than before. "This will have to wait."

"What is it?" Josie asked. Even Laura seemed alarmed at the change in the Colonel's posture.

"He's hit Washington."

The team was in the air again- on board the large MC-135 Josie had first flown on just a few months ago when she had left Arizona for the first time.

The stone soldiers and their leader were all in gray and black combat fatigues and assault vests, packed with gear and weapons, and huddled around a briefing table with Colonel Kenslir. Jimmy stood to the side, wearing an Air Force flightsuit and his tactical visor, listening intently to the briefing the Colonel was giving. Agent Keegan and Dr. Olson stood with Josie on the opposite side of the table.

The meeting was taking place in a conference room and command center onboard the aircraft, located just behind the main passenger compartment. It was equipped with monitors and fold out workstations, all displaying live feeds from various agencies and departments of government.

"So what did he want at the monument?" Jimmy was asking. Even though he was once again flesh and blood- a scrawny nineteen year old dwarfed by the stone soldiers and the Colonel- he had kept his mind on the mission.

"The Washington Monument is more than a tower of marble and stone," Kenslir explained. "It's the focus for an energy-gathering network built into the very heart of Washington."

"What kind of energy?" Dr. Olson asked, worried.

"Etheric energy- drawn from the people within the city."

"To what end?" Victor asked.

"That's a topic of debate in the research circles," Kenslir said. "No one really knows who was behind it, but the monument and many of the structures in Washington seem to form some kind of focus that draws energy and concentrates it. The speculation has been that some secret society engineered the construction, but then vanished before they could use it."

"When you say it draws energy," Josie asked. "What do you mean? From where?"

Colonel Phillips now looked up from the report he had been reading. "The people. It's like a great leech, siphoning off the smallest amounts of energy from the people coming and going."

"How's that even possible?" Keegan asked. "How do you build something like that and no one notices?"

"The Masons," Jimmy said. He'd read a lot off theories about the monument and Washington's design on the internet.

"No, the Masons didn't plan this," Kenslir said. "In fact, some theorize the Masonic symbolism was put in place to hide the true nature of the whole project."

Josie shook her head- she was more concerned about what the monument did now than who built it. "So it leeches energy from people? How does no one notice that?"

"It's a slow process," Kenslir said. "And it's more of a static charge... imagine a nail and a magnet. If you pass a nail through a magnetic field, electrical current is created in the nail."

"Electromagnetism," Victor said.

Kenslir nodded. "It's the basis for pretty much all modern technology. The monument and its attached structures work the same way- living beings moving in and around Washington generate etheric energy that is somehow drawn into the monument. It's a gradual process but overtime it undoubtedly builds up."

"And there's no way to stop it?" Josie asked.

"So far, it's seemed harmless. When the phenomenon was first discovered in the early 1900s, no one could figure how to tap it," Phillips answered. "Meaning no one else could either."

"We're getting off track, here," Kenslir said. "The point is, it's the strongest singular source of energy in the country, and this clone of Clint Kerrick has tapped into it. Making him even more powerful than he was in Georgia."

"How do we stop him?" Jimmy asked.

"First we need to find him- so far satellites haven't been able to locate him."

"Could he still be in Washington?" Laura asked.

"I don't think so," Kenslir said, turning his attention back to the maps layed out over the table. "He obviously wanted all that power for something. If his target was the capital, he'd have already struck."

"So what now?" Josie asked. "Where do we go?"

"We're headed for D.C.," Kenslir said. "We'll stay airborne- all military units in the country are on alert. Once Kerrick is located, we'll move to intercept."

"You mean to kill him?" Laura said, smiling.

"Or orders are to stop him- by any means necessary."

***

The raw power he'd taken from the monument was enough to perform miracles. But Clint Kerrick was only one man. In his former body he'd accumulated energy like this over time, and had been undefeatable. But he couldn’t be everywhere at once. To bring America to its knees, he would need help.

For years he had calculated and planned- even before his death. He had envisioned many plans for toppling the government and leaving the country ripe for the taking. Nuclear weapons. Biological weapons. Plagues. Each had advantages and disadvantages, but they all worked toward a similar goal- forcing the population into doing something they didn't want to do. Surrender.

But there were no assurances America would surrender when faced with overwhelming force. The Japanese had determined that in World War Two. If faced with a foe, no matter how powerful, Americans clung to a belief they could fight back.

The only real way to beat America was to make them want to surrender. That meant making them love him, or fear him. And after so many years as a disembodied spirit, Clint Kerrick had decided fear would be most effective.

The humans would expect him to go after his ten remaining clones- his original army for defeating America. But they were just flesh and blood. Defeatable- as Clint had so painfully learned himself in the arctic circle. No, to instill sheer terror he needed an unstoppable army. And army that could not be killed- because they were already dead.

It hadn't taken long to fly from Washington to his ultimate goal. He arrived late in the afternoon and touched down on the wide open fields and immaculately cut lawns of the park.

Even in the daylight, he could see his new army. Like in Georgia, most were deep in the ground, or existing as formless entities in the bright sun. Unlike Georgia, there were not just a few hundred.

The Battle of Antietam was the bloodiest battle in the American Civil War. Over twenty-two thousand men had died in the fighting. Even with less than one in one hundred failing to pass on after death, he still had over a thousand souls that had chosen to linger on earth. A thousand angry spirits that died with hatred in their hearts, and a thirst for blood.

They would follow him against the living. Across this modern landscape they would march. A mighty fighting force that could not be stopped. They would march southeast, destroying everything in their path. Then they would destroy the nation's capital- and it would all be televised to the world.

Kerrick didn't need to tell the hundreds of souls barely clinging to existence any of this. The dead did not communicate with one another with words. They felt what he felt, simply because he willed it. They began to come to him- drawing the energy barely contained within his clone body.

Despite the powerful sun shining down on them, they began to manifest. First as shimmering ripples in the air, then as faint outlines and finally appearing as solid as any man of flesh and blood.

Just over a thousand specters formed around Kerrick- and not all in the gray uniforms of the confederacy. Those who had died for the North were angry too. In death they realized the futility of the War between the States. They no longer cared for causes or morals. They only seethed with rage that their lives had been cut short by men who had lived in comfort long after the war had ended.

For the living visiting the National Park at Antietam, the scene was a nightmare. Soldiers appeared out of thin air and formed into ranks. They saw weapons materialize in the hands of the shimmering soldiers. They watched as friends and families were cut down by sabers and spectral bullets.

Many escaped simply by fleeing in the right direction. The army of the dead were not interested in anyone except those that stood between them and their goal. Marching silently, they began their long trek toward Washington.

Clint Kerrick flew above his new army, just dozens of feet off the ground, drifting lazily in the air. He had used most of the energy he had drawn to manifest the dead, but there was still plenty for him. Guiding the resurrected soldiers, he steered them east.